


all you sinners stand up sing hallelujah(hallelujah)

by filthymouthedslut



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellamy Blake is a History & Mythology Nerd, F/M, I just love my babies, No Plot/Plotless, Painter!Clarke, Teacher!Bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:48:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27465190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filthymouthedslut/pseuds/filthymouthedslut
Summary: Bellamy does some extremely late Christmas shopping and meets a certain blonde.'I'm buying presents very late and your shop is the prettiest thing I've ever seen' AU
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Bellamy Blake/Echo, But they're exes, Echo/Raven Reyes, Emori/John Murphy (The 100), the others are only in the backgorund
Comments: 10
Kudos: 85





	all you sinners stand up sing hallelujah(hallelujah)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is pure indulgence. There is no plot whatsoever but idc. This is a huge mess, but oh well. #noregretz, amirite?
> 
> title from Hallelujah by P!atd bc im a basic bitch

Let the record show that Bellamy Blake did _not_ mean to be shopping for Christmas gifts _on_ Christmas. Because it wasn’t his fault. It was Jasper’s fault because he was the one who suggested that instead of exchanging gifts, they just put some money in their Road Trip Fund.

Which was what he planned to do but then _Octavia_ called them all stingy fuckers and demanded gifts and that went out of the window.

The others, traitorously, had already bought their gifts without telling Bellamy. So that left him roaming the streets of Arkadia alone, snow falling around him and getting caught in his coffee.

* * *

He had been walking around for almost 2 hours and still hadn’t found anything. His sister was incredibly picky, and he didn’t want to piss her off by getting her something like an alarm clock.(Which he had once. It didn’t go well.)

Finally, when he was just about to give up, he spotted a shop called Griffin’s Gallery. It was nestled between a vegetable shop and a sex store. It must have recently opened because he had visited the other shop multiple times.

The vegetable shop, that was.

Bellamy pushed through the doors, bell tinkling as he did. The aroma of _Christmas_ enveloped him, roasted chestnuts and marshmallows. He took in the shop as he walked towards the empty counter.

It was, to be frank, chaotic. But in the best way. There were paintings _everywhere,_ hanging from the ceiling, up on the walls, lined up on the shelves. In one corner, a potter’s wheel sat, a lump of clay on it. Oddly shaped bowls and vases and cups were arranged neatly on one of the shelves, painted all the colors of the rainbow. A giant easel was placed in a very precarious position, pot of water teetering on it.

It was _perfect._

“Hello? Is anyone there?” he asked into the empty shop.

“One sec! I’ll be right there,” a muffled voice came from the back of the shop. It was sectioned off by a heavy hanging curtain.

He pulled out his phone, texting a quick _i’ll be back in some time O_ to Octavia who seemingly had forgotten where he was.

“Hi. How can I help you,” a girl said as she shouldered through the curtains. She was clad in a reindeer jumper, which was an atrocious red. Antlers were placed lopsidedly on her blonde curls. There was a streak of blue on her jaw, and her fingers, and her shoulders.

_She was gorgeous._

“Hi. Uh- I was wondering if you had any-,” Bellamy broke off, realizing that he didn’t even know what he was looking for.

The girl laughed. “ Don’t know what you’re looking for?”

He nodded, momentarily taken back by the blueness of her eyes.

“Well, I’m sure I can help. What’s the occasion?”

Fuck, even her _voice_ was sexy. Husky and low. _He really had to get a grip_.

“It’s for my sister. For Christmas.” Bellamy told her.

The girl looked stumped for a second. She gaped at him like she couldn’t believe what he was saying.

She said slowly, “You’re going Christmas shopping. On Christmas.”

Bellamy sheepishly nodded. He was well aware how pathetic that sounded. Again, Octavia’s fault, not his. He was actually a very organized person. The kind who bought his gifts 2 months beforehand and measured the wrapping paper before wrapping it.

The girl- Clarke, according to her name tag- snorted. “ Brother of the Year award goes to you. Anyways, I can help you. I have a few extra pieces which haven’t sold yet.”

She shows him a series of paintings, each so stunning and colorful that he couldn’t stop staring. They were painted all the colors of the rainbow, some infused with glitter and gold sheets.

“Holy- Wow. That’s really good. _Really_ good.” He told her very seriously.

She smiled at him, color flushing her cheeks. Her eyes sparkled as she said, “Thanks. I do try.”

“I’m Bellamy, by the way.”

“Clarke,” she said, pointing to her name tag.

Bellamy walked around the store, taking in the colors. In the end, he chose a painting for O, a horse galloping with the rider bleeding on to its mane.

She would love it.

Bellamy swiped his card, Clarke punching something into the computer.

“Would you like to gift wrap it?”

“Yes thank you,” Bellamy said.

“If you could just pick your pattern, please,” Clarke said as she showed him a box full of different kinds of wrapping paper. Some were Christmas themes, sporting Santa Clauses and reindeers while other had stars and cakes adorning them. There was also one with middle fingers on it. Knowing O’s fondness to flipping him off every time he so much as _asked_ a question, Bellamy knew his sister would love it. Plus, he did want to flip her off for making him buy gifts on Christmas.

“This one’s perfect, thanks.”

Clarke laughed, bright and tinkling. God, she had a pretty laugh. “That’s one of our bestsellers.”

Bellamy grinned at her, one hand tousling his hair. Clarke went into the back room, emerging a few minutes later with the wrapped painting. She had even stuck a little bow on it.

“Thank you very much. You’re a lifesaver,” he called out as he walked out the door.

“You’re welcome. Be a better brother, yeah?”

Bellamy laughed, turning back to shoot her a wink. Clarke mimed gagging into the cash register, which made him laugh harder. She was smiling, looking _so_ pretty amongst the paintings and Christmas décor.

“Merry Christmas!” she said.

“You too!” he told her.

He smiled again, before turning around and walking out into the snow.

* * *

Bellamy was having a crap day. It had started out normal enough, with running out of milk for his tea and the homeless woman at the stoop of his shitty apartment spitting at him. But then his car suddenly decided to stop working and there were no buses that he could take so he tried to _walk_ to work. Which, of course, didn’t go to well seeing as he was immediately pelted with hail stones- something the weather channel had most certainly not predicted. But Bellamy was a brave fool. So he proceeded to continue trying to walk in the storm, with no protection at all. He ducked under buildings, trying to avoid the death stones. Which ultimately turned out useless as a hailstone hit him so hard that he started bleeding.

Luckily, there was a hospital nearby, so he rushed into Arkadia General clutching a bleeding nose. Why on earth did he pick today of all days to wear his favorite blazer, he didn’t know. Now, the deep green was stained with dark patches, adding to its soaked appeal.

A nurse told him to sit on one of the beds, asking him if he would be able to fill out a form. Judging by the stench of _medicine_ and alcohol around him, many of the patients would not be able to.

The nurse called for someone called Griffin as he wrote down his details on the form. Having to squint a bit because he had forgotten his contacts _and_ his glasses at home, he brought the form close to his face, trying to read what was written.

Bellamy handed the form back to the nurse, who passes it to the doctor who had just arrived. Her blonde head was ducked as she read his chart, a stethoscope hanging around her neck.

“Hello Mr. Blake. I’m Doctor Griffin and I’ll be treating you today.”

Bellamy looked up in surprise. It was the girl from the Antique’s shop. Clarke was looking at him, smile on her face.

“Hey, Clarke. Fancy seeing you here.” Then after a beat he added, “Why are you here actually? I thought you were an artist.”

“Bellamy! Hi. Oh no, art is sort of a side hustle. I’m a doctor here. Surgeon, actually. Anyway, what happened to your nose”

Bellamy winced. “Oh. Wow that’s really cool. I-uh- was walking through the storm and a hailstone hit me in the face.”

Clarke stepped closer, snapping on some gloves. She placed one hand under his chin tilting his face up to see. She gingerly prodded the area around the nose, asking him if it hurt. Clarke picked up a pair of tweezers with a cotton ball between its tongs. She soaked it in saline solution as she brought it near his face.

“This might sting a bit, but I need to clean the wound,” she told him.

Bellamy nodded his consent. And holy _god_ it stung. It burned so much he thought he was going to cry but Bellamy was _not_ going to cry in front of the pretty doctor. Instead, he bit his tongue and clenched his palms.

After what felt like an hour, she stopped cleaning the bloody thing.

“Good news- you’ve not broken your nose. Just bruised it. So, I’ll prescribe you some painkillers but other than that you’re good to go. Apply an ice pack for 10 minutes thrice a day, and you should be good. Avoid rubbing your nose too- it’ll hurt for the next 48 hours. But…that’s it.”

“Thank you,” Bellamy said as he smiled up at her.

“Do you have someone to come pick you up? Because I wouldn’t advise you to go back out in the storm again.” Clarke’s lips twitched upwards.

“Ha ha. Yeah, my friends should be here soon. And,” he trailed off catching sight of Murphy and Raven walking through the doors, “here they are.”

“Murphy! Guess who broke their nose again because they went out in the middle of a hailstorm,” Raven loudly asked.

“No one can do the same thing twice, Raven. What fucking fool would go out without shelter in a hailstorm twice.” Murphy replied, just as loud.

“It’s actually our good ole’ pal Bellamy here,” Raven said as the two assholes reached him, shit-eating grins on their face.

Bellamy glared at them. “Go away. I have to stay here overnight for observation. Clarke here was just telling me my room number,” he told them primly, gesturing at Clarke.

Clarke just gave a shark grin, rolling her eyes at him. Before she could say anything, Murphy chimed in with his _unwanted_ opinion.

“Wow Bellamy,” Murphy clapped his hands, drawing the attention of some doctors, “aren’t you a great liar. This is a hospital, dumbass. Not a hotel suite. Come on, Benedict Arnold. Monty’s waiting in the car.”

Clarke let out a sharp laugh at the nickname. She held up a finger as she scribbled out his prescription on her pad. She ripped the page out, handing it to him.

“Here is your prescription. You can ask Miller at reception for the medicine and your bill. Thank you for choosing Arkadia General.” Clarke grinned at him, helping him get up. “Nice to meet you guys,” she told his friends.

Raven just winked at her while Murphy grunted which, coming from him, was practically beaming.

“See you again, I hope,” Bellamy cheekily said as he slipped on the coat Raven had brought him.

“In different circumstances hopefully,” she shot back, still smiling. Bellamy thanked her one last time, which she waved off, and then walked to the reception where Murphy was trying to chat up the receptionist Miller.

Such rampant bisexuals, they were.

* * *

He was holding three very large pitchers of beer and a nacho bowl when he next saw her. It had been 3 months since, and he still hadn’t forgotten her. But his mind was currently occupied with carefully delivering the beers to his girlfriend, Echo, who was currently winning darts against Raven.

Someone bumped into him, likely pushed by one of the wandering loons at the very packed bar. Indeed, The Dropship was usually packed but today seemed especially so. He had been pushed three timed so far, and his beer was threatening to spill. But he managed to not lose his grip on them, and asked the person who bumped into him if they were OK.

“I am so sorry for that- Bellamy?”

The person he bumped into turned out to be Clarke. She was wearing a spaghetti top tucked into black jeans, hair pulled into a messy ponytail.

“Clarke-hey. Sorry if I spilt anything on you. The bar is packed to the brim and I can’t see past my beer.”

Clarke laughed. “No, it’s fine, you didn’t spill anything. Do you want some help though?”

“That’d be great, thanks,” he said, handing one of the pitchers and the nacho bowl to her.

He guided her back to the table where Raven, Murphy, Echo, Monty and Harper were. Echo was still beating Raven at darts, judging by Raven’s pout. Monty and Harper were being disgustingly sweet to each other, both of them too shy to make a move. And Murphy was talking to a girl whose name was Emori, having met her at the hospital. She was a nurse who had helped them fill out the forms because none of them knew what to do.

Bellamy set the beer down on the table, Clarke following suit.

“Hey guys. Guys-,’ he said, raising his voice so they could hear him over the deafening music blasting through the speakers, “this is Clarke. She’s the doctor who fixed this.” He gestured to wildly to his face, hands flying.

Murphy drawled, “Yeah, I remember you. Shame you couldn’t make him pretty though.” Bellamy flipped him off, to which he _crudely_ mimed giving a blowjob.

_Jesus._

Clarke just grinned that shark grin again as she said, “Why? Need a boy toy to ogle?” At Murphy’s shocked expression she explained, “Ooh yeah. Miller told me everything. Including the comment about how you could _give him a blowjob and he would still have the same expression on his face._ Very tasteful, might I say.”

Instead of looking embarrassed, Murphy just scoffed, turning to Emori to say, “See babe? Some people like Ms. Clarke over here _like_ that sort of comments. Not everyone’s a prude.” At Emori’s raised brow he quickly rectified, “Not that you’re a prude. Bellamy is.”

“Fuck you, Murphy,” Bellamy intoned in a robotic voice.

“No thanks, baby boy. Been there done that,” Murphy shot back, referring to their _very_ drunken hookup when they first met. Bellamy just threw a peanut at him, which Murphy caught in his mouth, wiggling his eyebrows at Emori.

“I _like_ you,” Raven informed Clarke. “Wanna help me beat Echo at darts. She’s using her training as an archer to unfairly win this game.” Echo protested, over which Raven loudly declared, “Un. Fair.”

Clarke snickered as she went to stand next to Raven, picking up one of the darts. She slipped into easy conversation with them as she tried to hit the bullseye, one eye closed in concentration. Soon, the whole gang got involved in the game, with Raven, Clarke, Monty and Murphy on one team and Bellamy, Echo, Harper and Emori on the other. Clarke turned out to be super competitive, spending the entire game trash talking them with Murphy and Raven.

She fit in seamlessly with them, like the last piece of a puzzle slipping into place. The only _piece_ missing was Octavia, who was currently on a trip with her boyfriend Lincoln for 3 weeks. She would be back in 3 days, and Bellamy had missed her. Not that he would ever tell her. But he had.

The night ended with his team winning solely because of Echo. The team’s reward was Clarke’s phone number, she informed them obnoxiously. It was passed around on a chit of paper, everyone typing it into their phones, too drunk to realize that they could just forward the number.

Clarke stumbled out the door, waving away their offers to drop her home. Her flat was just down the block apparently so she bid them goodbye and set off down the block in her paint-stained DocMartens.

* * *

Clarke became a part of their group after that, everyone taking to her instantly. Even _Echo_ , who normally hated new people, liked her. She was quickly initiated with their weekly cajoling, laughing at their routine outgoings. She tried to come along whenever she could, switching shifts so her Friday nights would be free. Clarke even impressed Octavia who, after listening to Clarke’s rant on why ‘The Godfather’ was the greatest thing to be made in movie cinema, had thrown her arms around her, as literal _tears_ leaked out of her eyes. The two spent the next few hours making a detailed list on _exactly why_ was it superior.

While Clarke couldn’t always attend their weekly nights out, the gang always made it a point to visit her little flat whenever she had a day off. Being a resident meant that she was barely home, so her flat was perpetually messy. It had almost given Bellamy a heart attack when they went there for the first time, and he had spent the next one hour washing the dishes and picking up the books and magazines lying on the floor. Clarke had taken one look at him cleaning up and then laughed manically, plopping down on the sofa next to Echo and challenging her to a game of Call of Duty.

The gang has solo meet ups too. He and Echo broke up after four months of dating, but they continued to be best friends. They went on platonic lunch dates and he even forced her to admit that she liked Raven.

He enjoyed his time with Clarke the most, though. The two of them just _fit_ together, exchanging insults and complaining about their joint hatred for historical inaccuracy in movies. Bellamy hated it because he was a history professor and therefore compelled to hate it. He was very passionate about what he taught, something Clarke made fun of when he went into one of his rants about Homer having a crap gaydar. But she always listened to him when he was pointing out everything he would have done had he been a Victorian man, asking questions and then jeering at his choice of bonnets. Clarke hated it because she just wanted things to be right and well-thought. Not haphazardly throwing in something from the 17th century into a 15th century drama and calling it good enough.

The two bounced off each other’s energies, making everything seem lively and fun.

Once, they were planning to see Hamilton together. So, Clarke had barged into his apartment 2 hours too early and claimed that he had better put his ‘grading face’ down and make some popcorn.

He didn’t have a ‘grading face’.

After the best 3 hours of his _life_ , Clarke and he had googled the lyrics to each and every song, proceeding to spend the next 2 hours singing and trashing each other’s voices.

She even dragged him into watching Grey’s Anatomy too, claiming that she needed someone to rant about how terribly inaccurate the show was. (She just didn’t want to admit that she had a huge crush on Caterina Scorsone.)

“I mean, you would think that they would get maybe just _one_ doctor to verify the medical stuff,” she huffed.

“Maybe they do have one. Maybe they’re just not good at their job,” he replied.

“Shut up. You know, if they asked me to help, I totally would. I could use the money, I mean,” Clarke said, gesturing to her sock which had two holes in it.

Bellamy just snorted, elbowing her. “Sure, _Princess._ Trust fund not giving enough?”

Clarke was the daughter of Abby Griffin, one of the leading surgeons in the world. Her name became famous because of a video that went viral of her saving an asphyxiated man with just a pen and a sanitizer. The video had rolled in the big bucks, and she was invited to Oprah and Ellen. All the publicity just added more money to her already enormous salary. Plus, she was married to Marcus Kane, Governor of Arkadia.

Clarke had a rocky relationship with her mother. Abby had presses her to follow medicine, calling her art a ‘fool’s waste of time”. The two had a big blowout, and hadn’t spoken since. Why exactly Clarke had chosen to follow medicine he wasn’t sure. But Bellamy didn’t want to push her, figuring she would tell him when she was ready.

“Hardy-har. My darling mom cut me off after that-,” Clarke paused, wincing as she remembered, “ _day_ in March. So, y’know..,”

Bellamy frowned apologetically. “Oh shit. Sorry, Clarke.”

Clarke waved it off. She popped a piece of popcorn in her mouth, not swallowing as she said, “I’m going to start a petition to get an authenticator on the board of Grey’s Anatomy. You better sign it.”

Bellamy flicked her nose. “Don’t talk with your mouth open, you heathen.”

Clarke sniffed, swallowing the piece as she opened her mouth wide to show him that it was gone. At Bellamy’s gag, she shoved another four pieces in her mouth, chewing loudly with her mouth open.

Bellamy pushed her off the couch, her offended shout making him laugh.

* * *

Clarke’s birthday was on a sunny Thursday. Bellamy hadn’t seen her for almost a week as she was buried in her studies for an upcoming exam. This happened to fall on 23rd August, her birthday. But Clarke being Clarke had completely forgotten about it, drawing a blank face when Bellamy had tried to subtly remind her.

So, the gang had arranged a surprise birthday party for her in The Dropship. They had it all planned out. Raven would text her for a ‘friendly night out’, telling her that Bellamy was going to pick her up. And once Bellamy did, he would drive her straight to The Dropship. He would get out first, asking her to get his bag out of the trunk of his car. Then, he would run into the bar, switch of the lights and wait.

Bellamy loved throwing surprise parties. One could say he was _proficient_ at throwing them. (He had even briefly considered being a party planner but had shot it down because of its low job security.)

They even had a cake that was decorated with injections and paint brushes. And matching helium balloons, which were floating near the ceiling. And a signature drink as well, called ‘The Princess’. It was a concoction of vodka, cranberry juice and something else.

Like he said, Bellamy was an avid party planner.

Clarke swept through the door, bag in hands when they all jumped up and screamed “Surprise!” And it would have gone perfectly if someone had bothered to turn on the lights so they yelled it into the darkness.

A glass crashed, followed by the bartender’s yell of “You’re going to pay for that”. Bellamy blindly stumbled towards the switchboard, tripping over someone’s foot as he did so. Finally, light flooded the room, revealing a grinning Clarke, an angry bartender and an apologetic Monty.

Clarke’s eye found his, and she jumped to wrap him in a hug. She was laughing when she pulled away to say, “You did this?” At Bellamy’s nod, she just him into another hug, chin resting on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Clarke said as she pulled away, eyes gleaming. Bellamy just winked, dropping a kiss to her forehead. He then nudged her to the bar where there was ‘The Princess’ waiting next to multiple colored shots.

It was a drinking game. Clarke would ask a bunch of questions about herself, and if someone got it wrong, they took a shot. But if they got it right, then Clarke had to take a shot.

Needless to say, they all got _very_ drunk by the end of the night. Raven and Echo had disappeared somewhere, and they were probably fucking, based on the very heated looks that had been exchanged the entire night. Harper was trying to herd an extremely drunk Monty into a cab, and Murphy had gone home with Emori. That left him and Clarke.

He had never seen Clarke this drunk before. She was stumbling all around the place, heels in hand. She was drunkenly singing the lyrics to Anarchy in the UK, replacing the UK with Arkadia. Her hand was clutching Bellamy’s as she dragged him down the street. Bellamy wasn’t faring that well either. He was currently rambling about how he failed his 9th Grade Physics class.

“Is it my fault that I didn’t know what the three equations of motion were? No. Maybe if it wasn’t so _boring,_ I wouldn’t have forgotten it. Mrs. Deller had a grudge against me anyways,” he told Clarke very seriously.

“Ugh. Fuck Mrs. Deller. How could that old hag fail you anyways? Isn’t that illegal?”

The two walked down the street towards Bellamy’s apartment, arguing over whether they could sue Mrs. Deller or not. Clarke snatched the keys from him yelling “Race you!” and dashed up the stairs. Bellamy ambled his way up the stairs, not even trying to go fast. He found Clarke bent over next to the door her head.

“Shouldn’t have done that. Oh, my head. Oh, my _stomach,_ ” she moaned.

Bellamy sniffed. “If you’re going to puke, could you please do it in the bathroom?”.

Clarke flashed her middle finger, but she did as he had asked. The sounds of her purging leaked from underneath the door as Bellamy gulped down copious amounts of water. He could hold his alcohol pretty well, rarely getting drunk enough to actually puke.

Clarke trudged out of the bathroom, wearing one of Bellamy’s t-shirts. His heart stopped working when he saw her, but he made himself move.

“Here,” he said, holding out a glass of water.

Clarke took it, chugging it down. She plopped down on the couch, patting the space next to her for Bellamy. He sat down and put his hand over his eyes as he silently vowed never to drink again.

As he vowed every time he drank.

“Thank you,” Clarke mumbled out, half-asleep.

“You’re welcome, Princess,” he said quietly, too tired to say what his drunken mind so desperately wanted to.

_I’m in love with you._

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are my jam<33333


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